


A Gambler, A Jack and an Ace

by SomedayonBroadway



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Addiction, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Foster Family, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Brotherly Love, Child Abuse, Drug Abuse, Drug Addiction, Foster Care, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Modern Era, Past Abuse, Withdrawal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:21:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 19,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24836047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SomedayonBroadway/pseuds/SomedayonBroadway
Summary: He'd been dealt a bad hand his whole life. He only saw one solution. But his luck was bound to change eventually.
Relationships: Jack Kelly/Katherine Plumber, Racetrack Higgins & Jack Kelly
Comments: 18
Kudos: 65





	1. Welcome Home

**Author's Note:**

> This is an old fic from my FF.net account that I recently rediscovered. Hope ya’ll like it!

Race hugged his backpack close to his chest. There wasn't much in it. But it was all he had. And, though this might be a normal occurrence for him, being tossed from home to home never did get any easier. Even if he at least knew someone at this new one. It didn't stop him from worrying about the other kids. There were over ten of them, he'd been told. Maybe even fifteen. And they were all boys. Race had never gotten along with many teenage boys. In fact, he had a really rough time in the last house he was in. A house in Brooklyn, a place where the boys didn't like newcomers.

Race placed a protective hand over his left shoulder. The bruise had been there for over a week. He didn't think it would ever fade.

"Take a deep breath, honey. Someone is very excited ta see you. You'll be okay." Race looked up to the front of the car at the woman speaking to him. She was dark and had the kindest smile the boy had ever seen. Her eyes sparkled in the rear view mirror and Race felt himself starting to calm down. However, he couldn't find it in himself to smile back. He just gave her a short nod and let his eyes wander aimlessly out the window.

He let his forehead fall against the cool glass and he tugged down the sleeves on his black sweatshirt, letting his mind think up so many ways to escape before hugging his bag again. He heard the glass hitting against each other and he could practically smell the smoke that his body longed for. And then he remembered the one thing in that bag that was irreplaceable. And the boy found himself unzipping the front pocket, slipping a picture out of it.

Two boys stood, happily, in the midst of a green field. One was taller. His hair was a light brown color and he had forest green eyes that could make anyone feel loved. His smile lit up a room and his arm was slung around the other boy's shoulders. The younger boy had blond curls on the top of his head. His blue eyes caught the attention of anyone who saw them. He looked like something that was foreign to Race. He looked happy.

As Race looked down at it, he found himself wishing he could just jump into the piece of paper and be that boy again. Be the boy with a friend that would be there forever. There everyday for him to mess with. Have a place to go and play. Have that arm around his shoulders that made him feel safe and secure, unlike any other feeling Race had ever experienced. Be _happy_.

The blond boy ran a hand over the small photo between his fingers. The memories that came flooding back to him, however, weren't the ones of two boys who loved each other like brothers. They were the memories of the things that happened after that day, when Race's life started to crumble and fall apart. And he remembered why he had the things he had smuggled into his bag.

When the car pulled to a stop, Race shoved the picture away, hiding it from anyone who might be able to see it. He let his eyes take a glance out the window and he sat, frozen in his seat, looking up at the large house. There were three cars in the driveway. The one that Race couldn't stop staring at was the one he'd seen many times before. An old, beat up, faded green truck.

When the kind woman opened the door, urging him to get out of the car, he gave her a nervous glance. "Cmon, baby. He's been waitin' for too long," she pleaded with him. And the boy looked up at the house he could only describe as a mansion again before he slowly stepped out of the car.

Race felt his heart start beating faster when she rang the doorbell. He gripped one strap of his backpack tightly with both of his hands. He found himself unable to stand still as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. It seemed like years past before the door finally creaked open.

The soft brown hair... that loving smile... those green eyes. God, Race missed it all too much. He was unable to keep from launching himself into the older boy, holding onto him so tight, the other kid probably barely had time to register who he was. When he chuckled, Race felt lighter, like the world was okay in that single moment. He felt arms encircle him and a hand brush over his hair. All Race could do was completely bury his face in the crook of his friend's neck.

"Hey Kloppy!" he heard the kind boy call out. "He's here!" And then Race realized how much he missed hearing that voice everyday. He had missed it so much. And he had missed the giggle that the older boy gave off when he pressed himself further into his embrace. "Welcome home, Racer," he whispered.

Race felt himself starting to fight the tears in his eyes. "Jack..." It was all he could choke out. He hadn't realized how badly he wanted to be held, how much pain the past few years had caused him, until he was in those arms. Until he felt _safe_ again.

"Get in here, kid. We can't leave you and Miss Medda out here in the cold." And inside they went. Little did Race know, this house would be the one to change his life for good.


	2. Start of the New

Race allowed Jack to wrap an arm around his shoulders and walk him inside, letting Medda and the man of the house converse in another room. Race still held the straps of his bag tightly in his hands as he heard the loud, sudden noises. The shouting and the feet running on the ground above him. The bangs on the walls and the clangs of metal from another room. Race couldn't tune it out if his life depended on it. And he wanted it to all stop.

"Jack look!" a little boy called out as he came running into the room. Race looked down at him, his face completely emotionless as the kid held up a piece of paper carefully folded to look like an airplane. Race could only describe the boy as a tiny ball of energy. His dark brown eyes were almost hidden by wisps of his equally brown hair, but the excitement and curiosity that they held were no where near suppressed. "Albert helped me do it! He said he used ta throw 'em at his teachers and they's neva' caught him!"

The boy was so incredibly impressionable. And Race knew he had to be careful around him. Maybe just stay away from him all together. He couldn't corrupt him. Couldn't put the kid in danger of being anything like him.

Race felt the arm fall away from his shoulder and he suddenly felt very exposed. But he stood, silently, and watched his friend squat down to the innocence contained inside a single foster kid. He ruffled the boy's hair and smiled. "Well, ya don't wanna end up like Albert. He ain't eva' got a good grade in his life." The little boy giggled as Jack moved to lightly tickle him. The kid couldn't have been older than nine or ten.

"Hey! I heard that, Kelly!" a voice shouted from the other room, making Race flinch and hope that no one saw it. Then another boy, no older than himself, walked around the corner and wrapped his arms around the smaller kid from behind. "Don't listen ta him Romeo! He's tryin' get in your head." The boy had fiery red hair. He pretended to be protecting the boy- _Romeo_ \- from Jack's crazy mind tricks. "Stop tryin' ta turn him against me."

Jack stood back up and rolled his eyes. Race saw him smiling though. "Alright, you caught me," he said in defeat, raising his hands up in mock surrender. "Now would ya please go help him finish his homework like I asked ya ta do an hour ago?"

The new boy in the room felt awkward. Out of place. But he stood in one spot watching the boys laugh together. It was something he hadn't seen in a long time. The red headed boy made a noise of offense and placed a hand over his heart like he'd been wounded. "I'll have you know, this is his homework." He gestured to the small plane.

Jack glanced over at Race and shook his head in annoyance before grabbing Albert by the arm and pulling him up. "Sorry Race," he apologized with that big grin he always wore that made Race somehow feel wanted. "This idiot," he shoved the red headed fifteen year old in the arm, "is Albert. And this," he ruffled Romeo's hair again, "is Romeo. The boy who should be doin' his homework instead a' makin' it inta origami."

"Cmon, Jack," the littlest boy whined. "I wanna play cards!"

Race raised an eyebrow at this. If he knew Jack, the kid couldn't have been talking about his kind of card game. Sure enough... "You and Al can play Go Fish afta' ya finish your math, alright?" Jack smirked as the boy pouted. Race didn't know how his friend did it. Those eyes had him caught. If it was up to him, he'd have everything he asked for. But Jack was always stronger than him. "Now say hi ta Race. He'll be stayin' with us from now on."

The boys turned to him, as if they were noticing him for the first time. Race gave them a small wave of the hand and the smallest forced smile that any of them had ever seen. But the little boy was too innocent to notice his hesitation. "Race? Do you run? Are you really fast?"

Race felt his heart sped up. He couldn't do this. This kid... he didn't want to be the monster to turn this kid away from the great life ahead of him. To ruin his innocence. But all he could do was shake his head. "No... Race like racetrack. I've... uh... neva' lost a bet."

Albert's eyes were suspicious after that. Race didn't like the way he was looking at him. But he quickly wiped the look off of his face and asked his own question. "What's in the bag? Ya could set it down, ya know?"

Race glanced over at Jack. He tried to push all of his fears down. But his voice almost gave him away. "N-nothin'... it's... it's okay."

Jack just walked back over to him and wrapped his arm back around Race's shoulders, sensing his hesitation and his fear. He had, after all, just come from Brooklyn. "Alright fellas, go on, get outta here."

Albert nodded and pushed Romeo back towards the room they came from. But before he left, he lightly hit Race in the arm. "Welcome ta the house, Race." The redhead missed the way Race flinched at his touch. Jack did not.

Race leaned into his friend's embrace as the noises continued. He was lead further into the large house. "Ya alright, kid?" Race didn't like that question. People were always disappointed in the answer. If he said yes, they would be upset that he didn't trust them. And if he said no, they would be irritated that they had to try and understand why. Normally, he would chose the former, pushing people as far away from him as he could. But it was no use lying to Jack. The boy knew everything. He shook his head and heard some more bangs coming from upstairs, causing him to jump a little bit, shying away from the noises. And, unlike everyone else in the boy's life, Jack knew exactly what to do.

Jack drew the boy to him, holding him in a tight embrace that Race had nothing to compare to. He stared aimlessly over the sixteen year old's shoulder. "No one's gonna hurt ya here, pal. You're okay." If only Jack knew the mess he was. If only Jack knew the next few months would be so hard on both of them all because Race had moved in.

After Jack showed Race the whole downstairs that the younger boy swore he would get lost in, Jack lead him back to the front of the house where the two adults were talking. "Hi, Race!" the man greeted, a grin on his face as he held out his hand for the boy to shake. With Jack's hand still on the back of his neck, he shook the man's hand. "I'm Kloppman. I'll be your foster father." He had grey hair and old glasses. He looked nice enough but Race still took a step back into the boy he trusted and he let Jack wrap an arm back over his shoulders.

Medda walked up to the two of them, caressing both of their cheeks. Jack turned his head and pressed a kiss to the palm of her hand and she gently stroked underneath Race's eye with her thumb. "It's been too long since the two of you have been together."

"Not like Jack would actually go a week without checkin' in on me..." It was the first snarky comment that Race had made that day. And it made Jack laugh, a certain joy filling up in him that he'd missed dearly.

"I'm just tryin' ta keep ya outta trouble, kid." If only Race could tell him that it hadn't worked. That he was the devil that snuck his way into an innocent house and he felt guilty for it. He shouldn't be there.

"Well there's no more need for that." Medda smiled at them. "Let's call this the start of the new."

Kloppman walked closer to them. He put a hand on Medda's shoulder and smiled at Race. "Jack, why don't ya go show Race where he'll be sleepin'."

And, once again, Jack was showing Race through the house, holding him close, trying to show him that he was there to protect him. But Race had secrets that not even Jack could stop. At least, so he thought.


	3. Friend of Mine

It had only been a day. Race was feeling shaky. He couldn't focus on one thing for more than five minutes. Jack had tried to introduce him to the boys. Every single one of them made Race nervous. He felt dazed trying to remember all of their names. It should have been easy. He never had a problem with it before. But his memory was all fuzzy.

Race sat up in his bed. Everybody was asleep but him. He felt the sweat building up on his forehead. He had to get out of there. Fast. He silently slipped on a pair of jeans and his sweatshirt before grabbing his wallet out of his bag. Then he made his way over to the window. He couldn't stop himself from climbing down the tree. And when he hit the ground, he took off running, leaving behind everything else he had carried with him into that house.

He ran to a familiar joint. It was halfway to Brooklyn, but he didn't care. He snuck in the back, just like he always did. He ran to the counter and put his hood over his head. The man didn't question the ID. All he did was slip him a beer and let a fifteen year old kid take a gulp of it, immediately feeling temporarily whole again after one drink. But it wasn't enough. It never was. And he had another beer before a tall brunette asked him to dance. And he did. He let the constant loud beat of the music drown out his worry that someone would notice he was gone.

Race let himself be pushed to a wall. He actually grinned as the woman came onto him. He let her press her lips to his several times and just enjoyed what he was getting, forgetting the fact that he'd even been moved again. Forgetting that when he got home, someone would care that he hadn't been there to begin with. Forgetting that the only boy he'd known since childhood knew everything. And the next thing he did was lift the woman's cigar out of her pocket for the trip back.

Race walked back to the home. The several wrong turns and falls he took never phasing him one bit. He was sipping on one last beer for the night and using the cig he stole. He didn't notice that he was having trouble walking in a straight line. Or that he felt like he could jump out of the way of a moving car. He was way past drunk. And to him, it felt great. He wasn't worried about anything. And life was okay. Until he made it back.

He unlocked the front door with the key Jack had showed him how to find earlier. He was as quiet as he could have been in his state. But when he tried to creep up the stairs, he froze in his tracks finding a boy sitting on the stairs, wide awake, with Race's backpack sitting in between his legs.

"There somethin' ya wanna tell me, Race?" Race hadn't heard that angry, pained voice in a long time. The last time, Race had refused to tell Jack about his latest beating until he was hospitalized for it a few days later. That was almost a year ago.

Race was stuck in a drunken panic. His hand grasped onto the railing of the stairs for stability. Jack didn't move. There was something in the older boy's hand. At the time, Race was too out of it to realize it was the one thing he held dearest in life. It was the photograph of them from back when they couldn't have been older than ten. And, at the time, Race was too dizzy to see the tears in his best friend's eyes.

The blond boy tried to get his mouth to work right. His felt an odd kind of rage build inside of him. "Yyyou... you went ttthrough my stufff..." Race accused, sounding fairly angry, but also too out of it to be able to remember it later.

"Damn right I did." Race flinched at the hurt tone of the older boy's voice. He didn't like the way it sounded when it was directed at him. "Because when my best friend for ten years disappears in the middle of the night, I'm gonna figure out where the hell he's run off to."

Race didn't know what to say. He swayed on his feet and Jack didn't get up to steady him. Instead he just looked at him, hurt and disappointed. "Jack... I-"

"When did this start, Race?" Jack's voice was demanding even though it was low, making sure he wasn't gonna wake up any of the other boys. Race fumbled for some kind of answer. He hated it when Jack's voice sounded like that. When the protective eyes that Race felt so safe under suddenly became broken because he had done something stupid. And when Race couldn't come up with an excuse, Jack asked again, "When, Race?"

Race let his legs give out from underneath him and he ended up sitting on the stairs below his friend. He leaned up against the railing and let his face fall into his hands. "A... a year ago..."

Jack shook his head. The photo was still held tenderly in his hands. "Why didn't you come ta me, Race? I coulda helped you! You're fifteen. You have no business bein' out drinkin' and smokin' or whateva' else you think is okay."

Race glared up at him, crossing his arms over his chest. "You ain't my fatha', Jack. Ya can't-"

"Tell ya what ta do?" Jack finished for him. "Newsflash, kid: I am in charge in this house. Kloppman might own the place, but I am the one who takes care a' you guys." Race couldn't respond to him. And right when he opened his mouth to try, Jack spoke again. "And you're damn straight I ain't your fatha'!" Race flinched. "I didn't put that scar on your back! Or your shoulder! Or your chest!" Race's eyes followed his friend's hand. The older boy placed his hand over the smaller's heart. "But I was there afta'. I was the one that held ya when ya was screamin' cause he was hittin' ya. _Hurtin'_ ya. Rememba' that, Race?"

Memories filled up in Race's head like a wildfire. It was too much for the drunken boy to handle in the state he was in and it defeated his entire reasoning behind doing what he'd done in the first place. He felt himself starting to shake. "I ain't your fatha', Race. I'm your brotha'. And I'm tellin' ya, you're bein' stupid."

Race didn't know what was happening before Jack had engulfed him in a warm embrace. For the first time, he noticed the way his best friend shook. And all Race could do was slump against him, unable to hold himself up any longer. "Talk ta me, kid. What happened?"

It wasn't one thing. It was... everything. His life happened. And Race didn't see any other escape. "I just wanna forget..." The boy sobbed into Jack's chest, letting his brother rub his back and whisper quiet nothings to him. Then, when Race was no longer mumbling anything but gibberish, Jack scooped the boy up and carried him up the stairs.

Race may have forgotten that night the next morning. But Jack sure as hell never would. And it was no where near the only time it happened.

When Race woke up the next morning, everything hurt. His head was pounding. His stomach was far too upset for him to be comfortable in any position. He opened up his eyes and regretted it immediately. It was so damn bright. So he rolled over and buried his face in his pillow, not registering the pained cry he'd let out when he was blinded by the sunlight.

"The hell's wrong with him?" It was vaguely familiar. He'd heard the voice once or twice around the house along with the sound of creaking metal that went along with it.

"Nothin', Crutch. Go downstairs with the othas. We'll be down in a minute." _Jack_. Suddenly, Race wasn't sure weather to be relieved or utterly terrified. _What happened last night?_ The boy groaned when someone laid a hand on his back.

"Get up, pal. Ya can't lay there all day." Race felt the blanket be pulled off of him. Then the bed dipped down. A hand was running through his hair.

"Wh-what happened?" The hungover boy was extremely nervous to hear the answer. He let his best friend rub his back and massage his neck a little bit. He didn't like the sigh that the older boy let out.

"I think you know what happened, Racer."

He was afraid of that. "'M... 'm sorry, Jack..."

Jack told him to get up. To go downstairs and face the day like he didn't feel like hell. "You can do it." So Race did. He slouched more than he should've and he didn't talk much, but no one knew why. No one knew the activities he'd gotten into the last night and he wanted to keep it that way.

Race sat down next to the boy with the crutch at the table that morning. Jack made him a bowl of oatmeal and slid it up to him, telling him to eat.

"So you and Jack were good pals?"

Race looked up at the kid to, once again, be met with the most innocent, hopeful, optimistic eyes he'd ever seen in his life. He didn't understand how kids that were in the situation they were in could be so cheerful. But Race just nodded. "The best." All those nights that they would play all day and fall asleep on the same bed, Jack protecting him from nightmares and the horrors of his own house. All the times Race would sneak in through the window with a new bruise and sob in his arms. All those nights Jack would turn on a movie to distract him. Race missed it. Jack truly was the best guy he knew.

Crutchie smiled at him, letting his heart melt at the sight of it. "Then you's one of us. And any friend a' Jack's is a friend a' mine."

Race gave him his best smile. He felt something that he hadn't felt in a long time. He felt... wanted.

But it didn't stop his mind from wanting more of the things he'd thrown himself into. And no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't control it.


	4. Chapter 4

Race didn't sneak out as much as he wanted to after that. His body would start screaming for him to get out. For him to make himself stop shaking, stop sweating. But his eyes would find Jack's sleeping form. And then he'd see Crutchie. Then somehow he'd find Romeo all the way on the other side of the room. There was too much innocence there. And for the next few days, he just told the boy's he was feeling under the weather, a fever biting at him before he realized he might as well sneak the smallest amount of pills or smoke. Some were suspicious. But most just took the excuse and asked him to play with them. He helped them with chores and their homework and then he'd sit on the couch with Jack and fall asleep with his head on his brother's lap.

He finally started to feel like he might be okay. But the feeling was never meant to last for the boy who had been running from his past his whole life. Because a few nights later he woke up and felt himself shaking so uncontrollably he shook his whole bed. He did the only thing he could. He unzipped his bag. Jack had thrown out the glass bottles he had smuggled in. But he missed a single case of cigars that was hidden in a pocket within the backpack. And the pills that were inside a small container next to it. And Race snuck out the window and lit the cig without looking back, finishing the thing off for the first time in days.

The smoke felt so good when it entered his lungs. It was freezing outside, but Race didn't notice. He sat on the tree, looking off into the city. He felt his body calming down only slightly. But he'd never felt more guilty in his entire life.

And the next morning, while he was getting ready for school, he was laughing at everything. The boys didn't think too much of it. They all just assumed he was coming out of his shell. But Jack knew better. Jack knew Race. He was snarky and sarcastic and he didn't like rules but he wasn't ever so carefree and light. At least, not without help. And before he could make it out the door, Jack stopped him.

"What'd ya take?" Race's whole face fell. The boys were out the door already. Well, most of them. There were a few others that were behind Jack but the older boy didn't seem to care. It was Albert and the kid with the crutch. Crutchie.

"Whaddya talkin' bout, Kelly?" Race tried to cover up that fact that he was unexplainably high that morning. Trying to hide it from the suspicious boys standing behind Jack.

"What'd ya take, Race? I've known ya since you was five years old. Ya ain't like this without somethin' ta help ya." Race took a glance behind the boy he'd always thought of as an older brother. The two boys were wide eyed. They hadn't known. And all Race could do was turn and storm out of that house without another word said.

He tried. He wanted to stop so bad. And then it would happen again where he was finally starting to get sleep. That's when the memories came flooding back into his subconscious.

_"No!"_

_"Please stop!"_

_"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"_

_"Jack!"_

He had to stop them. He couldn't relive them. Not again.

Race would wake up in a panic. The flashes of memories reminding of a year ago when he decided he needed to make it all stop. The flashes letting him see seconds of year and years prior when his life had been a living hell. He'd climb down the tree and run. He'd run to the alcohol that he wished would fix it all. It didn't. It never did. It was never enough. So he'd start talking to a girl. She was always ready to take it all the way. He'd mess with them, let them take him back to their place and he would sleep there and wake up in absolute shock of what he'd done.

When he would run back, he'd try and sneak back through the window, but Jack was up. Jack was always up. Jack always knew when he was missing. And he would drag Race down to the basement and try and get the boy to talk to him. Race would try. It never worked. No one could understand.

There were some nights that Jack could stop him. He would pin him to the bed and let the boy tire himself out while trying to struggle away. "You're doin' good, Racer. It's gonna be okay." But Race couldn't control the nights that he'd find a way out. He would sneak back in sometimes and fall victim of the beer he'd had. He'd pass out on the floor. The boys didn't like to bring it up. They liked Race. He was a nice guy. He would always do his best. He was trying. What else could they ask of him?

Race remembered, vaguely, sitting on the couch and watching Jack beg Kloppman to not report him. To just give him some time to adjust and straighten himself out. The old man had. God knows why, but Race had been given another chance.

But there was one night Race couldn't remember to save his life. He wished to be able to forget that he couldn't grasp the memories of the awful things he'd done. Better yet, he wished to be able to forget the morning that came after. But Jack told him the details of the night he'd lost. A night where things could have gone very differently.

Race had fought some bullies at school that day. Oscar and Morris. They had tried to pick on the boys in his house. And Race wasn't okay with that. It was the first time he'd fought anyone for Crutchie and the boy felt immensely bad about it later. The poor kid hated it when others fought his battles. And while that was the day the boys really started to trust him, to realize he did want to protect them, it was also a very bad day in that foster home of Manhattan.

Race had gone out to a bar that day. The new bruises he had were too familiar. He played poker for the first time in forever. It was like riding a bike to him. He'd won every hand. And he had way more than he should've had to drink. And simply walking back home that night hadn't worked.

Race saw the flashing lights. He heard the sirens. The fear that rose up in his chest was more than anything he'd ever experienced in his life. So he ran. He sprinted through the darkness with a newfound rush of adrenaline and he jumped the fence of the house, landing on the ground of the backyard.

He couldn't hardly stand after that. All he could do was watch the lights linger outside his house. He heard the doorbell ring from outside. He heard the door creak open. He held his breath. This was gonna be the end of him staying with his brother. With the other boys that he might be able to call friends. The end of seeing the hope and the joy. The end of being so close to feeling like he belonged. But then, Race watched as the lights were shut off and he heard the car pulling away. It was only then he realized he was sobbing.

"Racetrack Higgins!" Oh boy. Jack was angry. He was furious, even. "You can't hide out here all night. Get inside!"

Race tried to stand on shaky legs. He'd fallen back to the ground. That was when Jack found him. It didn't matter how desperately Race wanted to be enveloped in his big brother's arms right then, or how many tears were streaming down the younger boy's face, Jack couldn't have been happy in the least. He dragged Race inside, holding him up but roughly forcing him to the house. When they made it to the main room, Jack held the boy to a wall.

"Ya can't keep doin' this, Race!" Jack hadn't been the only one up. He left the youngest kids upstairs, telling them to stay there, but they hadn't. They watched from the top of the stairs. And the rest of them watched from the same room. But Race was too out of it to notice. "You're bein' stupid! You almost got yourself taken away, do you understand?!" Race had flinched. "I can't lose you again, Race!" Jack shook him by the shoulders. He tried to get him to understand. "You're so scared of your father and look what you're doin' ta yourself! You're becomin' him!"

Those words had hurt the boy. And suddenly, Race didn't care that the only person in the world that he trusted had said it. "Take it back," he demanded. But Jack had only given him a stern look as his face was stone cold, and he held his ground. "Take. It. Back." But Jack still didn't. And Race couldn't stand the way they all looked at him. So he did the only thing his alcoholic mind could think to do. He kicked Jack away and pounced on him, starting a fight that should have never been started.

The first blow hit Jack's left eye. The second was to his arm. Jack yelled at the boys to leave it when they tried to rip Race off of him. They're glad they did, in the long run.

Jack had Race on top of him, throwing punches and screaming at him and telling him to leave him alone. That he couldn't control him. And Jack was able to flip him over sit up behind him, placing an arm around his throat in a headlock that the boy couldn't struggle out of.

"Lemme go, Jack!"

"No!" Race felt himself sobbing when Jack held him still. He didn't like the way that Jack kept his arm around his neck. And all he could do was struggle against it. "This ain't gonna help ya, Race! I know your fatha' beat ya! I know the things he did! I know the homes you was put in didn't care about ya and I know you's've had it bad, but this ain't gonna take away your past!"

"You don't know nothin'!" Race countered, still kicking and punching, even with one of Jack's arms around his torso, holding his arms down. "If I don't drink, I can't forget!"

Every single boy in that house felt their hearts tear in two at that. They all still stood, watching this boy who had mysteriously wandered into their lives. The boy that their big brother would disappear for hours to go see each week. They all felt for him.

"I wanna forget! I wanna forget, Jack! Why can't I just forget..." That was when Race's struggles ceased. His whole body slumped against Jack. The older boy shushed him as he sobbed. His hold, however, did not loosen in the slightest.

"Sometimes we do stupid things ta try and solve our problems... but it neva' works, kid..." Jack had tears streaming down his face. Race could feel them when his big brother pressed their cheeks together.

Race wouldn't remember that night. Jack would. It would be a memory that scared him till the day he died.

But it was the morning after that Race would never forget. That morning, Race had woken up to complete silence. It was something completely unheard of in that house. And Race felt very nervous all of the sudden. He slowly opened his eyes, carefully not moving his aching body around too much. He felt stiff. He felt like he'd been in a fight...

Race turned over, off of his stomach, sitting up too quickly for his spinning head to handle. He was alone in the bedroom. And he didn't like it. Had they left him? Abandoned him because of the stupid things he'd done?

The terrified boy ran downstairs. Everyone was in the main room. Race froze at the bottom of the stairs as they did when they saw him. He didn't know the frightened tears were silently rolling down his face. They were sending him away. They had to be. They all looked at him like they knew. And Race felt himself starting to break. They didn't want him. He screwed it up _again_.

When he saw Jack's eye, he couldn't hold back a sob as the older boy rushed up to him, just as he was about to turn away and run back up the stairs. Jack just caught him and all Race could do was hold onto him so tight while he sobbed.

"Calm down, kid... you're alright." Race felt himself being moved over to the couch. Jack pushed him down onto it and stood right in front of him, squatting down so they were level with each other.

"I-... I d-didn't know- I c-can't... Jack, I-" he couldn't come up with words. He let his face fall down into his hands. He didn't want to cry in front of them. He didn't like it when the smiles were gone. When the laughter was sucked out of the room. And it was all his fault.

"Shhhh... I know, kid..." Jack reached up from his squatting position and began to rub Race's cheek with his thumb, smiling, only slightly, when Race leaned into the touch, knowing Race thought he was about to be thrown out again. But Race should have known better than that. Race should have known _Jack_ better than that. "And sometimes we do stupid things that we think can fix everythin'. It won't, Race. Drinkin' and gamblin' and smokin' ain't gonna stop ya from havin' nightmares about your pop. They ain't gonna stop ya from thinkin' about your foster parents when they beat ya and starved ya and hurt ya. Ya can't make it all go away. You ain't the only one who's tried."

Race cried harder at the mention of these things. Most of these boys didn't have those memories of old foster homes to think about all the time. They were the lucky few. Race wasn't one of them.

"You ain't neva' done somethin' stupid like that..." Race accused, knowing his older brother was perfect. But there were some things that Race didn't know about the boy he grew up with. And when Jack sighed and then took a glance around at his boys, who were watching the two of them carefully, making sure another fight didn't break out, he pulled up his shirt.

Coming up from the tip of Jack's pants and up his right side were long, thin, red scars. They were older. None of them looked recent. But Race still gasped at the sight of them. He sat frozen for a moment, looking at some of the horrors of his friend's past. His shaky arms were slowly lifted up and his slender fingers brushed up against his brother's side. "Jack..." he choked out.

"Ya remember when they took ya away, Race?" Jack asked, setting his shirt down and ignoring the shocked gasps and glanced from his other brothers. Race just looked up at him, teary eyed and confused. The truth was, Race didn't remember. "I couldn't forget it. But this," he gestured to his cut up side, "didn't fix it. It just made it hurt worse. I couldn't stop it. I couldn't stop ya from gettin' hit ova' the head or stop ya from screamin'. And I couldn't stop 'em from puttin' ya in that car and drivin' off. But hurtin' myself didn't fix it!" Jack placed both his hands on either side of his friend's face. "It didn't bring ya back."

Race closed his eyes. He couldn't stand to see the water drops leaking from his best friend's eyes. He couldn't stand to see the other boys' horror filled faces. No doubt, Jack had never shown those scars to anyone before. And it confused Race. He had to have been the one to give Jack the bruises that were all over him. No one else would dare touch him. Why tell that to him? "A-ain't ya gonna... ain't ya gonna send me back?"

Race opened his eyes. He knew the consequences of his actions. But when he looked around, all the boys were appalled at the very idea. And Race felt himself begin to breathe again.

"Ya think we's could send ya back like you's some crap item no one wanted?" Crutchie's voice was hurt. It was angry and upset and... hurt. And Race watched the younger boy walk up to him. "Ya ain't a broken toy, Race... you's our brotha." And all the hungover boy could do was sob and fall into his friends' arms. His _brothers'_ arms.


	5. Too Good For This

Race was still struggling. Jack would stay up with him all hours of the night. They'd yell. They'd fight. Jack would hold him in a loving embrace. They would watch a movie. And they did something that shocked every boy in that house. Jack played poker with him. And the older boy looked to be no stranger to the game and no stranger to playing it with their new friend.

But these long nights wouldn't mean Race didn't get in fights at school. It didn't mean he didn't get in bad fights with Jack. It didn't mean he didn't find ways to get out when his whole body was shaking. When he couldn't see straight anymore. But then someone entered Race's life that would change all that.

Jack brought home a girl. He said they'd been dating for a while. She was beautiful. Her smile made every boy feel warmer. She was funny and kind and gentle. But Race didn't like to be near her. He didn't want her to know what he really was. A drunk and a smoker and an addict. So he kept to himself, letting Jack's girl be around the others when she was around. It wasn't until one fateful night that all of it would change.

Oscar and Morris had beat him good that day. He had been in the boys' bathroom when the two walked in and locked the door behind them, cutting off his only exit. His head had been slammed into a wall. His whole body ached from the times they'd kicked him and punched him too hard while he had no other choice but to beg them to stop. They didn't. They never did.

Race had snuck out while Jack was at the grocery store. The boys were probably worried sick. But all Race could do was try to forget.

Katherine had been driving herself home that night. It had been a long day of school for her and her father, the principal, always required her help with something that she found completely unimportant. That was when she saw a familiar boy slumped up against the side of a brick building. She pulled over.

"Racetrack?" The boy was shaking. His hands were balled up in tight fists and he was breathing hard as he leaned his back to the wall of the place Katherine now recognized as a pub.

Race's eyes shot open at his name. When he saw who was standing there he cursed at himself and then let his eyes fall shut again. "What're ya doin' here, Katherine?"

His voice shook and was pained in a way Katherine would have never expected to hear from him. He had been smiling when she'd met him, getting along with the boys. And Jack was so fond of him. "What are you doing here, Racetrack? Jack would kill you if he knew you were out here."

Race winced at the name. _Jack_. And his face became one of panic and anxiety. "God... Jack... Jack's gonna kill me."

Katherine saw the guilt in his eyes. She saw the boy shaking. She saw him gasping in pain and squeezing his eyes shut. He was in pain. But he didn't look to be physically hurt, at least... not recently. So she squatted down in front of him and felt his head. "You're burning up..."

"T-tell... t-tell him... seventeen..." That was all Race was able to choke out before he was rolling over, placing his hands on the ground and letting out the contents of his stomach onto the sidewalk.

She pulled him up. Race didn't fight her. He didn't have the energy. So she put his arm around her shoulders to hold him up as she dragged him to her car.

Jack pulled the door open with force after he basically sprinted to it, praying it was who he thought it would be. The kid disappeared again. If Kloppman caught Race one more time...

Jack froze when he saw who was there. "Katherine?" She stood at the door, nervous and anxious. Jack could see why. Leaning up against a post on the porch was his friend.

Race was slumped against whatever the girl had leaned him against. His vision was blurry and he felt incredibly hot.

Jack crossed his arms in disappointment when he saw his best friend like he was, assuming the worst yet again.

"I found him over by Brooklyn's biggest club," Katherine explained, gently. Race heard the confusion in her voice as she watched her boyfriend. He was a mess. Worried sick, disappointed and... scared.

"Race-" The boy tried to sit up straight when he heard that stern tone of his brother's voice, but he couldn't. He was shaking too bad.

"He told me to tell you seventeen," Katherine breathed out before Jack had the chance to chew out the boy on the ground. And the change on the older teens face was dramatic.

Race could feel the relief spread across him when Jack's eyes went over to him. "Seventeen hours?" The boy nodded and felt his tears starting to fall when Jack let out a breath before walking out the door and dropping down in front of him.

Jack smiled when Race leaned into his touch. He placed his hands on both sides of the kid's face, wincing when he felt the heat contained inside him. "Katherine, would ya help me get him inside, please?"

The girl moved to help him. She saw Jack put one of Race's arms around himself so she did the same, lifting the dazed boy off of the ground and moving into the house. "Jack, what's seventeen?" she asked curiously as Race mumbled incoherently under his breath.

"Seventeen hours since he's had a drink..." Race silently cursed as his brother told her. He didn't want to be the reason the angel stopped visiting the boys. They all loved her. Rightfully so. She was amazing. Kind and understanding and gentle. He longed to have it. To _deserve_ it. But he didn't.

He felt himself being laid down on the couch. He let his eyes slide shut, but he wasn't sleeping. It was clear he wasn't sleeping.

"What hurts, kid?" Jack wasn't yelling, but to Race he was screaming.

"M-my head..." It was pounding. It hurt so bad, Race couldn't open his eyes. The light in that room was the sun to him and it hurt.

"Jack, he's shaking..." Race groaned at Katherine's voice. He tried to turn into the couch, hide himself from the pureness he couldn't ruin, but Jack caught him and forced him to lay flat.

"Katherine, I'm sorry..." What had he done? Was Jack apologizing for _him_? Why did he ruin everything? Race wondered why this was his life. He was truly placing a burden on Jack. On his big brother. Jack didn't deserve this. His girl might never come back because of _him_. "He's tryin' ta stop."

Race didn't hear a response. He felt Jack's hands still on top of him, holding him still. He wished it never happened. He wished that that day, a year ago, had never happened. Brooklyn had broken him. It had made him into a monster that even he couldn't contain.

A minute later, another pair of hands was on him. He didn't know who they belonged to. All he could do was try to struggle out from underneath them. But Race quickly realized the hands were gentle. They were kind and loving and they were helping him sit up.

Suddenly, Race was leaning onto Jack and there was a glass pushed to his lips. "Open up, Race... Cmon..." Race did as he was told. Pills were slipped between his lips and Race realized they must have been pain killers. Not the drugs that had never satisfied him before. Then the water traveled down his throat and he was able to barely open his eyes.

Katherine stood above him. Her face was full of concern and worry about a boy she really didn't know. It confused Race. What had he done to deserve that type of concern. He was nobody to her. In fact, he didn't remember a time when he'd ever spoken to the girl. And yet there they were. Katherine with a bottle of pills in her hand and Race swallowing them, begging his own pain to go away.

"He needs to lie back down, Jack." Jack nodded his head and helped Race back down onto the couch. Race still shook. His body felt hot and he felt freezing. He whimpered when his back fell against the cushions again.

Race couldn't open his eyes again when he felt a gentle hand on his forehead. He was about to say something when the angel above him shushed him. "It's okay, Racetrack. You're gonna be okay..."

The boy felt tears slipping from his eyes. He was humiliated. Why had he done this to himself? Why did he do anything? Oh God, where was Jack?

That's when he felt a familiar hand on his cheek. "Jack..." he choked out.

"Shush, kid..."

Race couldn't. "Jack..." The older boy shushed him again, but Race couldn't stop. "Send me back, Jack..."

Race could feel his brother tense up just by laying beside him. "Race-" The boy shook his head, in an attempt to cut off his best friend. But Jack started again. "Race, ya know I ain't gonna do that!" The younger kid winced at the tone. "Open your damn eyes and look at me, kid!" Race squirmed around on the couch when he felt his big brother's hand on his chest. But when he realized he was too weak to put up a fight, he reluctantly opened his eyes and did as he was told. That was when he noticed that his vision was blurred with terrified tears. "You're my brotha'."

Race felt the hand on his forehead begin to run a thumb across his damp skin. He felt himself taking in shaky breaths as his brother continued to speak. "Eva' since you crawled through my bedroom window ten years ago, you's have been my brotha'." Race remembered that night. The best night of his life. The one where he met the boy that would protect him. No matter what. "I. Can't. Lose you, Race." Race shut his eyes again and felt tears leaking from them. "I love you, Racer."

Race heard Katherine sniffle. She ran a hand through his hair. What had he done to deserve this kind of kindness from her?

"Yeah, ya did somethin' stupid and ya kept it from me and it hurt. It _hurt_ , Race. But I can't send ya away." Race reached up and clutched the hand on his chest, tight. "I need you. You're too good for this..."

"But the boys-"

"The boys love you, too!" That was a voice he hadn't expected to hear speaking up. Race's eyes shot open to meet his brother's girlfriend. Her eyes softened and her hand still offered a soothing motion through his hair. "You really don't know how much they talk about you, do you?" Race didn't respond. So Katherine continued. "Crutchie told me how you stand up for him, against the Delanceys. No one but Jack has ever been brave enough to face them. Did you know that, Race?" Before Race could even shake his head, she was speaking again. "Albert told me about how you always can tell when he's having a bad day. He says you always make him laugh."

Jack smiled at her. Race felt a warmth spread across him at the pure love in his eyes when the older boy looked from him to her.

"And Romeo," Race heard her laugh and he never thought he'd heard anything more welcoming or warm in his life. "Romeo told me about all the nights you'd let him into your bed after he has a nightmare. He told me about playing Go Fish with him, even though he knows you'd rather be playing poker. He told me about that time you carried him home from school when he tripped and twisted his ankle."

Jack gripped his hand tighter when Race looked up at him, as if asking for confirmation. And Jack nodded.

"They look up to you, Race..."

Race closed his eyes. "They shouldn't." They shouldn't. He was a mess. A disaster of a boy who had only wanted to start over. Who had just wanted to forget. A gambler who was bluffing through life, hiding behind alcohol and cigars.

Katherine sighed. "Make sure he gets plenty of rest, Jack. If he stays away from whatever he was having, it'll be rough for a while." Race didn't like the sound of that. But he knew there was no way around it.

He felt the hand leave his and then he heard the sound of two lovebirds kissing. "I'll be back in the morning."

"Kate, you don't have to-"

"Jack, I'll. Be. Back. In. The. Morning." Race heard Jack laugh. He opened his eyes in time to see her get to the doorway. She pressed her lips to her fingers and blew him a kiss. Then she was gone.

"Ya caught a good one, Jackie..." Race muttered out. His voice shook, but the smirk still made itself present on his face.

Jack just smiled back at him. "Apparently, you did too..."


	6. Chapter 6

"Good morning sleepy heads!" A sweet voice sang, pulling Race out of his dreamless sleep. The boy opened up his eyes, ignoring the pain it caused him. He caught sight of Jack, laying on top of him, his head resting on his chest. His brother probably had to hold him down the night before.

When Race looked up, he found a smile. One that was refreshing to him. "Katherine?"

"Shhhh... your head must be hurting..." She was right. His head hurt like hell and his whole body ached. He could feel the bead of sweat along his forehead and he felt his whole body trembling.

"What're ya doin'..." She shushed him again. The boy didn't have the energy to keep fighting. Clearly, neither did the sixteen year old that was dead asleep on top of him. Race must've put up a fight the night prior. But he couldn't remember it.

"I brought you guys some breakfast." She nodded her head to the kitchen. Race couldn't hear them at first, but the boys were down there. They were giggling quietly with each other. "Just a few boxes of donuts. I thought you might like them."

"Katherine... ya didn't have ta-"

"I wanted to, Race. Just enjoy it." Enjoy it. _Enjoy it_. Something he hadn't been able to do in a long time.

Race couldn't resist that smile. It made him feel warmer. "Thank you." His brother's girl nodded in response. Then she kneeled down, placing a hand on her boyfriend's back.

"Jack." Her whisper was so light and loving. Race chuckled when Jack groaned after she pressed a kiss to the side of his head. His big brother must've had a rougher time holding him down than Race thought. He couldn't remember exactly what happened after Katherine left. It couldn't have been good. "Jack," she spoke again, giving him a small shake.

Race watched those green eyes shoot open, tiredly. When he realized where he was, they started to slide shut again. "Leave me 'lone..." Race felt him snuggling up to his chest again and he felt himself laugh. It had been a long time since he'd laughed like that. Only Jack could make him laugh in such a situation.

A few minutes later, Race's brother had a hand on the weakened boy's forehead. "Still burnin' up..." Jack muttered, trying to wake himself up. Race felt him slide off of him. He wasn't sure he wanted him to. He wanted the older boy to stay there. He wanted Jack to stay there to protect him from himself. But a minute later, he was being lifted up. He gasped, forgetting for a single second where he was.

"Calm down, Racetrack..."

"It hurts, Katherine..." Race whined, not quite sure why he felt like he had a right to complain to her. After all, he'd done this to himself.

"Shhh, Race..." That was when the boy felt his shirt being lifted up. His eyes shot open. He saw Jack trying to slip his shirt off of his clammy skin.

"J-Jack, stop..." Race was pleading in a broken voice. But Jack didn't. Race looked at his best friend with a terrified expression. He squirmed but Katherine held him still, laying him against her chest and holding his arms down. "Stop..." Race hated the way his voice broke. "Ja-ack!" He was terrified. He knew Jack knew why. But he wouldn't stop. "Jack, stop!" He was begging. And it was breaking his big brother's heart.

"Racer, you're burnin' up! We need ta cool ya down!" Race didn't care. But he wasn't strong enough to stop it.

His shirt was lifted over his head. And he heard the girl in the room gasp at what she saw. Race knew what it was. For one, he was incredibly skinny. He'd been starved only a few weeks ago. Before this house, no one had cared weather or not he'd had food in him or not. Also, he was sickeningly pale. He looked like he hadn't seen the sun in decades. There was a reason for that. It was because he had to hide them. He had to hide the scars, the burns, the _memories_. And now they were out in the open, for the world to see. And one of them stood out more than anything else. The one he spent so long trying to hide. The one stretched out across his back. The one that said _Brooklyn,_ in thin, awful knife sized scars.

Race saw Jack's face. He wasn't fazed by the markings all over him. He'd seen them more times than anyone else. He'd been the one to clean them. He'd been the one to heal them and make sure they didn't cause Race any further harm. He watched his big brother toss his shirt aside and then run a hand through his hair in an attempt to calm him down. It didn't work. "Hey..." Race saw the gentle smile on the older boy's face. But he couldn't find it in himself to smile back. "It's okay, Racer... you're okay."

A kind hand ran over his forehead as he was laid back down. "Calm down, Race... your gonna be okay." How could he resist that? That sweet, calming, collected voice from the angel above him.

"'M... sorry..." Race knew his friends weren't sure why he was apologizing. But he knew. These scars were meant to stay hidden. They were meant to be forgotten. He didn't like them. No one did.

"Shut up, kid. Ya ain't got nothin' ta be sorry 'bout." It wasn't true. Race knew it wasn't true. He had everything to be sorry about. But he kept quiet, not realizing before it was too late that two boys had wondered out into the room.

He heard the gasps. At that point, he wasn't sure which they were for. It could be because of the scars. Maybe the burns up and down his chest from cigarettes. Maybe it was the rope burns that were around his wrists. Maybe it was the dark long streak that lay over his heart or the one over his shoulder. The ones that scared him the most. The ones that were put there by a hot iron. The ones put there by his own father. They might also be because of the weak state he was in. Maybe it was the trembling. Maybe it was the sweat that slid over his pale skin or the shaky breaths he was taking in. Maybe it was the way they could clearly see that he couldn't move even if he wanted to.

He let his eyes drop closed. "Jack..." His protecter shushed him again and he felt Katherine's hand leave him and he couldn't place why he wanted it back. It made him feel... safe.

Then the damp cloth came over his forehead. He gasped as it made contact with his skin but relaxed when he realized why it was there. "Race, it's all gonna be okay. Do you understand? Your brothers are here. And I'm here. You're gonna be just fine, alright?" Race barely found the strength to nod.

"What's wrong with, Race?" Romeo. That poor, innocent, nine-year-old kid. Race fought his eyes opened. The boy was stepping up closer to him. Jack, who sat on the edge of the couch with his weakened friend's feet in his lap, picked up the boy, placing him beside him.

"Race is sick." It came out of Katherine's mouth before Race could even think about how Jack would explain it to a little kid. "He'll be okay." She was addressing everyone. All of the boys. And they seemed to believe her. So Race did too.

"Romeo... maybe we should-" Race could barely place the voice. But the sound of that metal crutch was so distinctive.

"I wanna stay with Race!" Race felt a warmth spread across him at that. That little boy... he looked up to him. Why? He didn't quite know. But he liked it. He didn't want to lose it.

"Rome, Race is real sick right now..." Jack sighed. Race felt his hand on his leg. He was lightly massaging it. "I think-"

"We should distract him." Race's eyes shot up tp Katherine. She smirked down at him. "What fun is being sick when your all alone?"

"What?" It was out of his mouth before he could stop it. But what was she talking about? Distractions? How would that make him feel better?

"Well, if you want to get better, you have to stop reminding yourself you're sick." Race felt his brother's girl lift up his torso and slip underneath him, placing his head on her lap as she ran hands through his hair.

He knew what she meant. _Sick_. He was sick. But it wasn't a cold. It wasn't the flu. It was a sickness he never thought he could get rid of. But he was gonna try. He _had to_ try. For them. For his _brothers_. It was true. He needed something else on his mind. Something other than the one thing that would stop the shaking and the sweating and the nausea.

Suddenly Race was very aware of how nauseous he was. And he was lucky that he had a brother that could read him like a book. When he automatically turned over, off of the couch, emptying his stomach, there was a bucket that was barely placed under him in time, a firm hand rubbing his back, and a soft one running through his hair. After a few minutes of harsh breaths and coughs echoing back to him, all he could do was let delicate hands pull his torso back onto Katherine's lap.

"Oh Race..." the girl breathed, the way her heart broke evident in her voice. Race whimpered when he tried to speak to her.

"Jack... is he gonna be okay?"

Before Jack could answer the poor little boy... _Romeo_... Katherine was shushing them all. "He'll be alright." He melted under her touch. "Like I said... he just needs a distraction."

"How do we distract him?" It was Crutchie. Race was sure of it. He was still in the house right? His eyes wouldn't open. He couldn't figure out why. He found his thoughts swimming in confusion.

"We talk to him."

So they did. For hours. They sent the rest of the boys in and out. For the rest of the day, Race was in a rare state. He found at times he couldn't place where he was or who he was with. It was scaring his friends. He would close his eyes for a moment and open them up, screaming for Jack.

"He's comin' afta' me again!" To him he was screaming. To everyone else, he was mumbling words, barely audible. "They's got a bat! Jack, please!"

Romeo would rub his leg while Jack sat down next to the couch, whispering to Race. "It's okay, kid. They put him away. He can't get ta you now..." Katherine would dab at his clammy skin with a wet cloth and make sure he was cooling off.

Crutchie read to him. Romeo had explained that it's what his brothers do for him when he's sick. The gimp boy sat on the chair next to them and read Race a story. It's calmed Race down for a few minutes before the boys head began revealing memories of a past he'd much rather forget.

"Mmmm..." He groaned. "Sp-Spot w-warned me! I... I didn't listen... it _hurt_ , J-Jack... Jack, I'm sorry I didn't listen! Why didn't I listen?! They all hate me! Wh-what did I do...?"

Everyone would freeze when Race began to cry out again. He could feel so many eyes on him and he couldn't even place who they belonged to. He just wanted the safe arms around him. He wanted the soft kiss to his head and the quiet whispers that he would be alright. But he was too out of reality to realize that was exactly what he had.

Jack started singing to him. An old lullaby that he'd sing Race whenever the boy had run to his window when they were little. Something familiar. Something they hoped would calm him down. It almost worked.

"He's comin' ta get me, Jack..." It broke their hearts. He actually thought he was being hunted by the man that was supposed to protect him. The man that had betrayed him in every way imaginable. "H-he's gonna hurt me 'gain... he's gonna kill me..."

"We won't let him, Race. We've got you." It was Katherine. Why she had taken such a liking to this boy was a mystery. But it was in her voice. She wanted him to be okay. She wanted to protect him from the world. She was just about a year too late.

That wasn't the scariest part of it, either. Later that night, when all the kids were shuffling off to bed with the help of the older boys, Race had actually been awake and aware. He was talking to his friends. He asked for things and he let Jack hold him when he admitted how freezing he felt. But no one knew what to do when his face suddenly became void of any emotion or reaction.

Jack called his name. Nothing happened. Katherine rubbed his arm and whispered to him. Still, nothing. Without any kind of warning, the boy's entire body began convulsing. He gasped, not even aware of what was happening. Jack, on the other hand, was near a full blown panic.

"Crutchie, take Romeo upstairs."

"But, Jack-" Jack wasn't hearing it.

"Now, Crutch!" So they did. And Jack looked up at Katherine with tears shining in his forest green eyes. "What the hell is happening?"

She wasn't much better off. With shaky hands, she grabbed onto Race's legs, nodding to Jack. He understood. A few seconds later, they managed to move the thrashing form to the floor. Race's head was in his brother's lap. The rest of him was being thrown into violent spasms.

"Breathe, Jack." Katherine could see it on his face. He was about to have some sort of panic attack. And all she could do was plead with her own mind to stay calm.

The boy on the ground was making pained noises, involuntarily. Jack almost reached to hold him down, but Katherine shook her head at him. "It could hurt him." So Jack settled for running a shaky hand through the boy's damp curls.

"Oh God... why him?" Jack breathed. He didn't deserve it. The kid had just wanted to make the pain go away. Because there was so much. So much pain that he couldn't handle by himself. And it broke his protectors' hearts.

After what felt like an eternity to his friends and only a split second to him, Race's body went limp. It had only been around two minutes. But the tears on Jack's face made it clear that it felt like years. And Race was confused. "... Jack...?"

"Shshshsh..." He let Katherine quiet him. But he still didn't understand why there were tears on his best friend's face. He was too dazed to hear the mumbles coming from the older boy's mouth. The prayers that were being prayed over him. Something his brother hadn't done in years. "Jack, help me turn him on his side."

The next thing Race knew, he was on his left side. His cheek was on Jack's thigh. He could vaguely feel a shaking hand running over his hair. Race didn't hear the conversation that happened next. But he could see the bottom of the stairway where two boys were standing, watching. One with a crutch, the other had fiery red hair. Both of them had tears streaming down their faces. So Race closed his eyes.

"I'm sorry..." And that was all he could say before he passed out.


	7. Chapter 7

Race was out of it. He had been for the past day or so. He was talking nonsense and calling out for people no one could go out and get. But when he was finally able to have that rare moment of awareness, he panicked.

He was in a room. It wasn't his. It was a room he'd never seen before. For any normal person, he would've guessed it was a normal size room for one person. To him, it was a ginormous space fit for a king. And he didn't like being in it.

He was laying on a bed. It was huge. He was under the covers, which were thrown every which way. He was propped up by a mass of pillows behind his head and his back. There were so many things in there and Race sat up in a panic, trying to understand where the hell he was.

"J..." he squeezed his eyes shut as pain shot through his head. He didn't notice before that he was shaking. He didn't notice that he was sweating or whimpering or crying. All he knew was that he was alone. Alone in a strange place with not a single familiar thing around him. "Jack?!"

He got no reply. The small cry hadn't been heard and all Race could do in his weakened state was curl in on himself and sob. He didn't understand where he was or why he was there. All he knew was that he was scared. "Jack..." he whispered out his brother's name. He didn't know what else to do.

"Race!" It was a female voice. Race was too dazed to look up from his fetal position on the bed, but suddenly there were arms around him and he was being leaned against something. Someone. An arm wrapped around his chest and his shoulders and another around his waist. Race could feel soft kisses being pressed to his forehead and suddenly Race could breath.

"Calm down, kid... you're okay... I gotcha..."

Race didn't have the energy to reply to the soothing voice. He could only barely open his eyes to find Katherine standing in front of him with a gentle smile on her face.

"Ka-... Katherine..." A gentle hand brushed against his forehead, clearing the damp curls away from his skin. He found himself gasping and trying to speak. But Katherine shushed him.

"You're okay, Race," she assured calmly, taking a seat on the bed in front of the panicked boy. Race could hardly see her. His vision was too blurred due to the tears building up in his eyes. "We took you to my house. Everything's alright."

"You're gonna be stayin' here fer a little bit, okay pal?"

Race felt his brother place his chin on top of his head and the boy felt safer. He was tucked into Jack's embrace and he never wanted to move. "Wh... why... why 'mmm I here?"

Jack sighed. Race didn't like it. He didn't like that sound. He wanted to be back to years ago when Jack could just say things to him. He wanted to be back to times when bad news didn't come. When him and Jack would laugh and talk for hours, forgetting about the horrors of something Race had once called home.

"You..." Jack began, but stopped, trying to figure out what to say to the boy. "Katherine got you a doctor. Ya needed it, kid... you were-"

"You're okay now, Race," Katherine assured. "But we need you to stay here for a few more hours, alright? The doctor told us not to move you and we couldn't take you back to the house anyways..."

When Race did his best to look up at his brother with confusion written on his face, Jack sighed. "There's folks comin' by fer an inspection, Race..."

Race closed his eyes. He took deep breaths and began to coach himself in breathing when a wave of nausea washed over him. "In... inspection...?" He could hardly finish the word. He felt weaker than he ever had before.

"Shshshshsh, kid..." Jack's voice was quiet and cautious. Race turned his face so he could press his cheek into Jack's shirt. He felt himself relaxing more as Jack began to rock him back and forth. "It's just gonna be a few hours, okay?"

Race felt his emotions giving way as he felt his brother press kisses to his head, attempting to calm him down. "D... don' go..." He couldn't do it. He was terrified to even feel Jack get up. He couldn't be alone without him.

"Shhhhh..." Katherine's hand swept over his forehead, attempting to clear some sweat from the pale skin. "It's almost over Racetrack..." He wished he could believe that. Truly. He wanted it to be true. His whole body hurt and his brain could only comprehend one solution. Race was an addict and he was sure he always would be. But he had to try. He had to try and stay away.

Jack left. Race was in and out of it. Every time he came to, he'd see something so unfamiliar. It made him feel like that scared little boy all over again. The one that used to run away, straight through a window that was always unlocked, straight into his best friend's arms.

"Jack..."

He was scaring Katherine. Little did he know that she sat there with him for most of the day, listening to his whimpers and his pleas. She listened to him beg for Jack to miraculously appear and take away the pain. She listened to him curse Brooklyn and the people who he'd been in the care of there. She dabbed his forehead with a cool, damp rag and shushed him when he screamed. And she couldn't have been any more relieved when the fever broke a few hours later.

What occurred when Race was asleep would always remain a mystery to him. All he knew was that when he woke up, Jack was there. He was in the doorway. But he wasn't the only one.

"What the hell were you thinking bringing such a disgrace into our house?!" Someone barked. Race gasped as the noise met his ears and shot a sharp pain through his head. He tried to sit up and fell back as he realized how weak he was. He was sure he hadn't eaten in far too long. He could vaguely remember being fed only to lose it a few minutes later. He couldn't recall much else. His body was shaking. And as his back hit the mattress again, Jack pushed himself off of the door frame and all but ran over to him.

"He's Jack's brother, Dad! He needed help!"

"Last time I checked, Jack Kelly was a foster child without a family and a boy that I ordered you to stay away from. And now you've invited a street rat into my home, doing what?!" Race winced. He felt Jack wrap arms around him, pulling him up into his lap, preparing to scoop him up and take off. "You've given him our food and our guest bed and-"

"Help." Jack's tight voice made Race's head shoot up. His older brother's hold tightened and Race felt safe. "I know ya ain't too fond a' me, Joe... but my kid brotha'... I didn't know what ta do..." Race leaned into his brother and he felt Katherine sit down next to them. "I can't lose him, Mr. Pulitzer... so _thank you_."

Race closed his eyes as Pulitzer growled. "I could call the police," he stated calmly. And the poor kid on the bed could only let out a sad sniffle. "I got a tip from two reliable sources already. He's an addict, Katherine."

Race clung to his brother, weakly. He felt Jack tense underneath him. "Jack, take him home." Race let out a cry when Jack complied, immediately. And he felt himself being whisked away by his guardian angel, up in his arms like a small child.

Race was a mess. That night, he lay on top of Jack. They were on the couch. The other boys were asleep up the stairs. Jack had taken Race home and just sat down on the couch, letting the boy lay on top of him as he played with the blond curls on his head.

"Jack?" Race's voice was so unsure and scared.

"Racer?" Jack's movements did not cease. Race appreciated that.

"I love you..." Those three words felt awkward coming from his lips. He hadn't said them in so long. Not to anyone. And yet, in that quiet moment while he lay in his brother's arms, they seemed like the only thing that could be said.

Still, the movements did not cease. And Race could barely lift his head off of Jack's chest to see the small smile that had spread across his friend's lips. And then a kiss was dropped on his head. "I love you too, kid."

"Jack?"

"Racer?"

"I thought I was gonna die..." Race knew Jack would know what he meant. He wasn't referring to the past few days of feverish nightmares and seizures. He could take his pick of so many other things. Overdose. Alcohol poisoning. Bar fights. Race didn't know what _exactly_ he was referring to. Possibly all of it. And the worse part was, he wasn't entirely sure he would've even cared.

Race could feel Jack's heart breaking underneath him. He hadn't meant for that to happen. It was only the truth. And Jack didn't respond, only giving him another kiss on the forehead and running a hand through his hair, making him feel whole.

"I love ya so much, Racer..."


	8. I’m In

_It was midnight. A time when a nine year old boy should've been sleeping. But Race was awake. And he tried to shake himself out of it. He'd seen this before. Too many times to count._

_He was back there. Back where everything started. Back, hiding behind a wall watching them play a game he would soon be able to skate his way through. They had glass bottles in their hands. Ones that Race couldn't take his eyes off of. He wasn't sure why he felt the need to watch. But he did. And even though he could practically hear the bottles smashing over his curly blond head, he continued to watch. He continued to stay there, paralyzed in fear. Terrified of making even the smallest sound._

_And then it happened. The smallest slip of his foot had been his end. At least, that was what he assumed._

_"What are you doin' up, ya little brat?!"_

_"Papà-" He didn't want to listen. Papà never wanted to listen._

_A smack made its way, harsh and clear through the kitchen of the apartment. And Race didn't know what else to do but to try and get away. Because Papà's friends were standing up, taking swigs of their beer and setting down their cards. And Race knew what was about to happen..._

Race woke up fast when a scream ripped from his throat. He sat up straight and breathed hard, trying desperately to calm himself. He tried to remind himself he wasn't there. He was here. Jack was here. The boys were here. He was safe. But the memory of that night made him begin to shake. It was the beginning of a world that Race had never asked to see.

He'd run. He'd climbed up a fire escape. God knows how. But he did. He'd knocked furiously on the window that had separated him from the only friend he'd ever had. He held his shoulder tight and let the tears stream down his young, innocent face. And before long, the window had been shoved open.

_"Racer?"_

He'd known he was a mess. His shoulder hurt like nothing else. His face must've been unrecognizable. Blood and bruises. He could feel his eye swelling. Hell, he could barely see out of the thing.

Before he knew it, he was being gently helped inside to a dark bedroom. Warm blankets were everywhere. An old VHS player in the corner. But it didn't matter. He'd seen it all before.

_"Jack..." the little boy choked. He let himself be lead to a bed and he was pushed down onto it._

_"Race... it's bad... your shoulder... it's dislocated."_

It was that night Race had known how much it hurt to set an arm back in place. It was that night that Jack told Race he wasn't going back. Not if he had a say in it.

It had been years coming.

Race hid. Normally he'd stay in Jack's room and the older boy would bring him food and they'd go out and play, like normal. Only, Race wouldn't go home after. He couldn't.

But not two weeks later on a rainy night, the Kelly couple had been out on the road. Drunk driving was what broke them. Drunk driving by a man known by Race all too well.

The boy thought Jack would resent him. Push him away. He was wrong. Jack held tighter. Race could hear the policemen trying to get to him, but Jack held him tighter.

That was when Race blacked out. He couldn't remember. He didn't want to. Whatever they'd hit him with later had messed with his memory and he was okay with that, because he never wanted to know what it felt like when he was ripped from Jack's grip. He never wanted to know how Jack screamed for them to let him go. He never wanted any of it.

He was a foster kid now. Barely considered a human being, much less a child.

Homes were hell. Even a kid barely ten could see that. Most folks he got bounced around to just needed a little extra cash. They didn't give a damn about him. Why should they?

There were so many of them. All of them different from the last. Some left him in locked rooms for hours, others used him as a ways of gaining pity. But sometimes they would be even more cruel. Sometimes they would pretend to love him. They'd pretend to make him feel welcome and apart of something before Medda showed up at the door a few days later. And a little piece of Race's heart would be broken as he was pulled from the home only to be thrown into another.

But Race had one constant in his life. A boy that found him no matter where he was. No matter how far he had to run, Race would see him once a week. Jack would be there. His _big brother_ would be there.

It took Race ten minutes to realize he was trying to keep himself from having a panic attack. It took him ten minutes to realize he was sitting up in his bed, gripping his sheets so tightly his knuckles were white. Ten minutes he sat there before he could feel the hot tears on his face or register the sobs ripping from his throat. He sat there for ten minutes before he could see Jack in front of him, trying to speak to him, carefully rubbing his arm up and down and whipping away his relentless tears. Ten minutes before he realized once again where he was and that no one was there to hurt him.

Race threw himself into the arms of the boy that sat on the bed in front of him. He clutched desperately to the fabric of his big brother's pajamas and sobbed onto him, trying to tell himself to breathe. He heard a quiet shush and whispers for the others to go back to sleep before arms made their way around him, slowly rocking him back and forth.

"I don't wanna rememba', Jack..." Between his choked sobs, he could only barely whisper. "I wanna forget it... I jist wanna ferget..."

"I know, kid... I know..." He did know. He'd lived through those things with him. And it hurt them both to think about. But Race couldn't respond. He was too busy trying to catch his breath. The lack of oxygen in his lungs distracted him enough to miss one of Jack's arms leaving him and grabbing a phone.

For a while, all Race could hear was a murmur of his protector's voice. He didn't know what he was saying. All he knew was that he wanted a drink. He wanted to forget. He wanted it all to just go away. So he squeezed his eyes shut tight. But that didn't stop more memories from flooding back into his mind...

_"Racer?!"_

_Racer winced. "It ain't as bad as it looks, Jack..."_

_The look on Jack's face said it all. He was furious. Furious as Race for not telling him when he'd known he was hurt. Furious at whoever had done this to him. Furious at the world for keeping them apart. "It ain't as bad as it looks?" Jack scoffed. "Really?" He shook his head, crossing his arms. "There somethin' ya wanna tell me, kid?"_

Yes _, he'd wanted to say for the three days he'd been walking around on a twisted ankle and laying on cracked ribs._ Help me! _he wanted to scream even louder, above the pain that consumed him. But from his white hospital bed, all he managed was a guilty silence as his eyes drifted down to his thin blanket. He picked at the sheet and tried to forget that for the past few hours, he'd been sitting alone while nurses and doctors asked where his parents were. It was all he could've done to call his brother._

_He'd be more careful next time. He'd shut his mouth next time. He wouldn't hide it next time. It was a lie. He tried to figure out which one would get him through the night. But that look on his protector's face said it all..._

_None of them would._

_"'M sorry, Jack... I didn't want ta-"_

_That was all he got out before he was inside a safe embrace. He liked it there. He never wanted to move. It was like the world suddenly stopped and all that was left was for him to sob onto a strong shoulder that had been offered to him._

_"I've got you, Racer," Jack had said, so gently it was almost impossible. "I ain't leavin' fer nothin, ya hear me?"_

Race heard him. He _believed_ him. Jack. His big brother and the only person who'd ever given a damn about him. If he'd only _listened_. Because it wasn't a week later that it started... that he began digging his own grave and taking steps further down towards hell.

_He could hear glass breaking. He could smell the smoke coming from the main room. He peered around the corner. His foster parents weren't home. But his foster brothers were not in their rooms where they should be. Oh no. In fact, they were having a field day in the living room._

_Race could see the bottles of alcohol in their hands. He knew in a few minutes, the quietness and calmness of the night would be gone. And it would be replaced with a house full of Brooklyn boys that had no will to behave anymore._

_The blond boy couldn't blame them._

_He walked around he corner. He shouldn't have. He should've gone back upstairs. He should've gone back to bed. He should've listened to Jack's voice in his head, screaming at him to stop. Telling him he was better than this. But he didn't listen. Instead, he went up to the boy he was most familiar with._

_"Can I get a drink?" He watched as the short and buff looking boy turned to him with a condescending look on his face._

_"Don' know if ya should. You's 'Hattan kids ain't as tolerant of this stuff." Race rolled his eyes at the words. He should have listened._

_He didn't. He grabbed the open bottle of beer from the other boy and took a swig, ignoring the burn that it gave him and the urge to spit it out. "Bite me, Conlon." And that was that._

_He should've listened._

He hadn't stopped since that night. That night when he'd gotten so drunk he'd almost forgotten his own name. "Lemme have a drink... pl'sss..." Race was begging. He was pleading and it must've been killing Jack. But the only response he got was his brother's missing hand coming down to smooth his hair back. "I wanna ferget..."

If he was aware enough, he might've known that his words sounded like gibberish to Jack. It all sounded like nonsense. But he kept on sobbing it out anyway. He was desperate. Anything to make the memories go away. Anything to just make it all stop.

"Calm down, Racer... it'll all be okay..." Race groaned and buried his face in Jack's chest as he spoke, feeling the vibrations of his voice and hearing the beating of his heart, trying to forget. "I've got you. I ain't lettin' go anytime soon, ya hear me...?"

Race heard him. And he listened. For the first time in his life, he just listened to his big brother and let his eyes slide closed. "I wanna forget..."

A kiss was dropped on his head as he thought about what having a drink would be like. He'd forget, sure. And he might feel a lot better. But he'd be giving in. Giving up. And in his brother's arms, he couldn't even think about wanting that. But he did wish his body would stop shaking. He wished his mind would stop recalling memories he'd much rather forget. He wished he could just be okay with being held by his lifeline.

"Hey, Racer?" Jack's voice was soft and nice and Race loved the way it sounded right next to his ear. It made a calm wash over him and he hummed in response. "I just talked ta Kath... she... uh..." Jack sounded amused and actually a bit hesitant. "She wants ya ta teach her ta play poker..." he finished with a slight laugh.

For the first time since this whole thing started, a real, gentle smile took over Race's face. And he let out a watery laugh. "I'm in."


	9. It’s All Gonna Be Okay

The nights that followed were gruesome for the boy who hadn't had a goodnight's sleep in years. Hours upon hours of him trying to teach his own second nature to his brother's girlfriend was taking its toll on him. Race was tired; he was shaky and- while he was able to stand upright and hold a coherent conversation- he knew his fight wasn't over. He craved something. _Anything_. A sip of alcohol, one drag of nicotine, just a simple pill or two. His body wanted it and his mind continued to torture him, letting him know he wouldn't be free without it.

"I hold them like this right?"

Racetrack grinned through the pain. Night three and his body still shook. His blue eyes were fierce as he hid inside himself. Sadly for him, his big brother sat to his left, reading him like a damn book. He could see the memories splashing over him, prepared to drown him and Race knew that.

"Yeah! You got it!" he encouraged, watching the girl across from him nod as she looked over the fan of cards in her hand. He held his own close to his body. He was sure by this point she understood the game rather clearly. He was sure she knew every word that was used in the game that he'd learned by simply watching people he'd rather forget. But still he'd ask, "'memba' what the hands are?" He heard the scoff that came from beside him. _Of course she does,_ Jack was saying. _But she'll pretend like she don't 'till you's neva' crave a drink again._

If the blond boy didn't feel so guilty, it might've been funny. But the all the nights that this girl had lost over _him_ made him uncomfortable. He was a nobody from Brooklyn. No one should care so much. No one ever had… besides Jack. But again, he went over the hands, describing each of them to her with his fake goofy smile and giving her examples all the same, just like he had the nights before.

"Okay," she said with a confident smile on her face as she glanced over her cards again. "I'm ready."

The games, to Race's surprise, were actually a bit challenging. In Brooklyn he'd breezed his way through games. Most of the boys he'd played were always drunk. Or high. Or, they were simply too easy to read. Jack gave him a bit of competition here and there, but mostly the game had been used as a distraction and Jack hadn't been trying. Now, this was challenging, because the girl in front of him was the biggest badass he knew. Spot Conlon had group homes across the city scared of him, but Race was sure even he wouldn't be able to get into this woman's head.

"Damn, Pulitzer. You's givin' Racer a run for his money," Jack laughed as he glanced back and forth between two of the people he held closest in the world. And Race shook his head and rolled his eyes, snatching the cap that was backwards on Jack's head and fixating it over his own curls, trying to figure out his next move.

"You think its so easy Kelly, why don' you try n' play the wiz here. You're dating a menace."

It was getting better. Slowly but surely it was. But life was never as simple as leaving the past behind. It always had to get more complicated than that…

The knock startled them all. Race watched as Jack- who had previously been dozing off in his chair- sat up all to quickly at the sudden noise. And Katherine turned to take a quick peak at the clock.

_11:44..._

"Who the hell is knockin' on the door right now?" Race asked, a bit shocked. If he wasn't being chased by cops, there should be no one at their home so late at night. So Jack grabbed his wrist when he tried to go see who it was, silently shaking his head as he glared at the thing as if he could somehow see through it. More pounding came and Katherine stiffened, clearly scared that the rest of the house would be woken soon if whoever was there didn't leave. But before long, the mystery that had arouse was solved with an angry shout that had Race's heart beating louder and faster than it ever had before.

"Kelly, I know you're in there! Me and your brat have some talkin' ta do!"

The _brat_ that the stranger spoke of, was torn between a groan and a whimper. So he settled for carefully placing his cards facedown on the table and started backing as far away from the door as he could. He was breathing hard, trying to keep himself calm as Jack sighed. "You owe 'im?" he asked, knowingly. He didn't seem the least bit intimidated by whoever was on the other side of that door. But Race's shaky nod let him know that he was absolutely terrified.

"Jack don't-" but his brother didn't listen. His brother just bravely stood from his seat at the table and marched over to the door. Race glanced at the girl who sat there, completely confused and shook his head, trying to form words. It didn't work. But the door had been opened and in strolled a boy no older than Jack.

"By all means, Spot," Jack began sarcastically, "come in, won't you?" The Brooklyn kid just smirked as he turned to face Jack.

"Where is he?" he demanded harshly, clearly having business he needed to take care of. He always did. Race had once liked to think of Spot as Jack for other kids. He protected them... or he tried. But the truth of the matter was that Jack didn't fail in protecting his kids, while Spot had a history of violence and drug abuse. He didn't look out for anyone the way Jack looked out for him and that was the whole reason Race was in this mess.

"Shut it, will ya?" his big brother whispered, putting a finger up to his lips. "You wake my boys I can tell ya you're gonna be sorry." It amazed the younger boy in the room how easy it was for Jack to talk to someone who was clearly looking for a fight.

Before anyone could stop it, Spot's eyes landed on him and a sly grin spread across his features with a certain spark in his eye that made Race nervous. "Hey there, Higgins," he greeted, much quieter than before. Race was up against the kitchen counter, not liking the idea of muscular boy stalking up to him too much. He could only glance behind him and look for Jack who was following Spot towards him. "Now, I think I's given ya plenty a' time ta pay me back for the... _items_ ," he so eloquently put it, "I got ya before the move. It's been a few months. Ya should have the money."

The room was swallowed into a bit of a tense silence after that, memories of Race's first day back with his best friend creeping back into his mind. The day when he'd held his backpack so close to his chest because the shame that would eat him alive if his brother ever found out. "Well?" the boy asked impatiently. "Hand it ova'!"

The flinch couldn't be kept down. It wouldn't be the first time that Spot struck him for things like this. The Brooklyn boys used to give him hell. He was an easy target, they said. The boy from Manhattan with no one left to look out for him. They always have him conditions with each drink he took or every cigarette he lit up. There was always a consequence for wanting to forget. And Spot wasn't about to let him forget that. So, without a word, Race carefully slipped around the buff boy and looked over at Jack before slipping up the stairs. It was all in those green eyes. Race wouldn't get hurt tonight. Never again.

The bag was under his bed. He hadn't looked at it in a long time. Taking the thing out was like a memory he didn't want to relive. He was better. Better than he had been in months. He made sure to be quiet while sitting down on his mattress and rifling through the thing, now mostly empty as Jack had thrown the unwanted items out. But while looking through the bag that Race wanted so badly to throw away, a small piece of paper slipped into his hand. It was hard to keep back the choked sob that so desperately wanted to escape him. He wasn't sure why he wanted to cry. But that picture stirred things up in him that he didn't understand, things that he couldn't understand. He couldn't understand why someone would look out for him like Jack did. It didn't make sense. He didn't deserve it. And yet, it was happening. Over and over again, Jack would show up and save his ass. And Race couldn't help but take the photo out of his bag and slip it into his pocket instead, digging through the remains of the bag some more.

When he went back downstairs, he threw his wallet at the unwanted intruder who stood near Katherine, clearly trying to sweet talk her into something. From the looks of it, she wasn't happy. Neither was Jack. "That's all I's got," he admitted. "I'll get ya the rest lata'..."

It wasn't good enough. It was never good enough.

"Take a walk with me, Higgins." That's always how it started. Every time Race did something wrong... that's how it started. Spot would put an arm around his shoulders and lead him away from prying eyes, ready to strike whenever the last person lost interest in the scene he'd set. So Race tried not to look helpless. He tried to straighten his shoulders and toughen up. After all, that's what Spot always told him to do. But just as Spot might've reached for the boy, Jack caught hold of his wrist.

"Why don't ya think for a minute before you try to touch my little brotha' again. That stunt that you pulled last year didn't put you in such a good place to do that."

Race's big brother knew everything. Deep down, he could've guessed that it Jack knew Spot was the one to lead the attack against him all that time ago. Because Jack knew everything. But Race didn't want Jack to know everything. Race wished he could somehow go back in time and stop it all.

"I warned him not ta come downstairs when my boys started gettin' rowdy," Spot responded with a smirk. "He didn't listen. You wanna blame someone, blame the kid for not followin' orders."

That was the last straw for Jack. Race could see it. He knew that the older boy already had a distaste for Spot Conlon, the worlds biggest dick. But, he never thought he'd see Jack's eyes flash red like that. He could see the rage that had been building up in the older boy for so long. He remembered the look on Jack's face when he'd barged into that hospital room.

_"There somethin' ya wanna tell me, kid?"_

He didn't have to tell him. Because Jack knew.

"Get outta my house, Conlon. 'Fore I call the cops."

With hands up in mock surrender, the Brooklyn king backed away from Jack. "Fine, fine. But don't think he's off the hook, Kelly." He then turned to Katherine and winked before pointing over to the scowling boy standing above her. "Watch your back, Tony."

"I don't think it's him that needs to be watching his back..." Katherine stood from her chair, straightening her shirt as she did so, somehow looking quite intimidating even with her petite stature. "You see, Mr. Conlon, I happen to have the means and motive to make your life very difficult with just a few phone calls. So I'd appreciate it if you left my friends alone, else I'll be forced to suggest that you be moved farther from us and away from Brooklyn."

Race was torn between laughing and cowering in fear as Spot scowled at the girl he'd come to love so quickly. Brooklyn was Spot's home. It was basically his kingdom. And Katherine had threatened to take that all away in a sickeningly sweet voice that could give anyone chills. But the silence could only last for so long before Spot opened his mouth again. "You little bitch-"

That was all he could get out before Race watched in horror as his big brother grabbed his old foster brother by the collar. Before anyone could protest, the two were outside, Spot pushed up against the house, and Jack in his face, screaming at him that he begged not take one step into Manhattan if he wanted to live for much longer. Katherine ran after them immediately, trying to pull Jack off and Race stood frozen in shock at what had just happened.

That night was the first time since they were little that Jack was being cleaned up by the boy he'd sworn to protect as his girlfriend called the police about a shady figure strolling around the group home.

"How'd ya know...?" Race asked, too curious for his own good.

The question didn't phase Jack. He just scoffed and shook his head. "You's scared a' him." Simple as that. And Race froze at the words.

"The police are searching for him. It's all gonna be okay," came a sweet voice from the hallway. When Katherine entered the bathroom, Race gave her a sad smile. "It's all gonna be okay," she assured. And when Race looked to Jack for the confirmation, the older boy just nodded, leaning his head back against the mirror as he sat on the bathroom counter.

"It's all gonna be okay..." he repeated. And Race believed them.


	10. Happy Birthday

Race hugged his backpack close to his chest. There wasn't much in it, he knew, but he couldn't wipe the stupid smile off of his face as he rushed down the street.

"You're late!" a voice laughed as he jumped over the railing on the porch he'd been terrified of standing on half a year ago. Race only laughed, still clutching onto his bag tightly to him and heading towards the door.

"As long as they didn't eat all the cake, I think I'll be okay, Al," the boy winked as he dodged kids who were playing hide and go seek around him. Albert must've been supervising. It was the only explanation. Race had learned that all the older boys took turns watching the littles as they played their games. He'd been ecstatic when he was finally able to take his own turn by himself.

Standing from his seat on the steps of the entrance into the house they both loved so much, Albert casually walked closer to Race, nodding down at the bag that was held against him. "What did ya get him?" He seemed truly curious. Race just shook his head.

"Well, I guess you'll find out soon enough," came the smug answer as the blond slipped through the front door, leaving Albert to babysit as he entered the land of the older kids, who were somehow so much louder.

"No way..." he breathed out as he stumbled upon the crowd gathered around the kitchen table. "You did _not_ start this without me!" For the first time in a long time, Race didn't freeze when all eyes turned to him. Jack and Katherine sat on opposite ends of the table, cards clutched in each of their hands, boys gathered around them, whispering bets into each other's ears.

The girl in the room laughed. " _You_ were late, mister!" she accused, pointing a finger over at the blond that was now pushing his way over towards them.

"Eh, that's okay..." Jack smirked, laying his cards down on the table and grinning up at his girlfriend. "He made it just in time ta see me win!"

It was a good hand, even Race had to admit that. But one glance over at the girl on the other side of the game and the boy knew. That smug raise of her eyebrow said it all. "You're good, Kelly..." she admitted, fingering the cards in her hand and letting a smirk melt onto her face as she slowly and agonizingly laid down her hand, standing up as she did so. "But you're just not good enough." A chorus of _"ooooohs"_ echoed throughout the kitchen.

Flush. It was a goddamn _royal_ flush. Not that it surprised Race all that much. After all, he had taught her how the game was played. Race didn't just teach folks the rules; Race taught folks how to win. "Atta girl, Kathy!" the blond boy cheered, reaching out his hand for her to slap rather smugly without taking her eyes off of the glaring teenager she'd been playing against.

"What can I say? I guess I can just call a bluff when I see it," Katherine grinned, squealing when her boyfriend rushed around the table without warning to throw her over his shoulder. "Jack! Just because it's your birthday doesn't mean I have to go easy on you!" she cried as he swung her around and ran through the room, refusing to put her down. Race laughed as he watched them, so happy and carefree. He could get used to this. He was getting used to this. _This was okay._

It had been months since his last lapse. He hadn't touched a bottle or a pill since and he didn't intend to. To give up all of this for that would be the worst decision anyone could ever make. And Race was done with making stupid decisions. "She musta had an ace up her sleeve, Jackie!"

"I did not!" It was hard not to laugh at the cry of defense from the girl struggling in her boyfriend's arms. "Cheating is against my morals!" she laughed, managing to force her boy into letting her slide down so her legs could wrap around his hips and her arms around his neck. And just as Jack might've argued with her, she captured his lips in hers and silenced him with a kiss.

"Oh get a room!" Crutchie yelled, hobbling over to take Jack's chair and settling down before propping his legs up on the table.

Race loved this. He did. He loved it more than anything in the world. The littles playing outside, the older boys playing games and the closest thing he had to a sister there to be the cherry on top of it all.

"She ain't got an ace up her sleeve..." Jack mumbled, pulling back from the soft kiss. "She is an ace."

"Yeah, yeah, whateva'." Race then placed his backpack on the table; the thing he rarely let anyone touch, out in plain sight for all to see. He wasn't so scared anymore. He had nothing to hide. With a smile, he pat the chair he was hovering over as some of the littles rushed inside, running around the counter and trying to get a taste of the cake that was placed specifically on a high shelf. Jack rolled his eyes and sat down, letting Katherine stand beside him after he let her feet touch the ground again. "Here..." Race said, pulling a neatly wrapped package out of the oh so treasured bag.

The look on Jack's face at the offer of the gift alone was enough to make Race happy. So, as his big brother began to peel away the paper that surrounded the gift, the younger boy crouched down behind him, letting his chin rest on Jack's shoulder as the gift came into full view. "Oh my God..." Jack breathed, his eyes glazing over just a bit at the picture in the frame.

It wasn't just a picture. It was a memory. A memory of two best friends in the middle of absolute hell, managing to shield each other from whatever the world had to throw at them. It was the thing Race hadn't _ever_ let anyone else touch. "Happy birthday, Jackie..."

Without any warning, the birthday boy whirled around in his chair and wrapped his arms tightly around his little brother. No words were said. No words had to be said. Race knew that Jack knew how dearly he loved that picture. That picture that was the only thing that had been his own for so long. But he didn't need it anymore.

After all, he was home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> As always, thanks for reading! Make sure to tell me what you liked, what you didn't, what you'd change or what you'd improve by leaving me a review. Love ya, loves!


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